Veiled
by Goldleaf83
Summary: What one sees with the eyes vs. what one sees with the mind.


Veiled

By Goldleaf83

_Author's note: A short missing scene for "Gowns by Yvette."_

_I have loved __Hogan's Heroes__ since the 1970s, but none of its characters are mine; they were created by Bernard Fein and Albert S. Ruddy. I acknowledge their ownership and that of Bing Crosby Productions and intend no copyright infringement. At no point will I or others profit monetarily on this story._

ooOoo

Hogan had just finished shaving and was wiping off his chin when the expected knock at his door sounded.

"Come in," he answered absently as he started applying aftershave.

LeBeau stuck his head in the door. "Roll call," he started cheerfully as he entered the room, then came to an abrupt stop, and swallowed audibly. "In . . . in five minutes, _Colonel_," he finished haltingly.

Alarmed by the French corporal's tone of voice, Hogan snapped his gaze first over to LeBeau, then down at his own right arm, on which LeBeau's eyes were fixed. He picked up his uniform shirt from where he'd hung it on the door of his locker and casually shrugged it on over his t-shirt, concealing the livid finger-shaped bruises just above his elbow. He hadn't intended for anyone to see that little souvenir from the Gestapo agent with the vise-like grip, who had hauled him in handcuffs down to the Burkhalter suite in the Hauserhof hotel the day before.

"It's just a couple of minor bruises, LeBeau. Looks worse than it feels," he said reassuringly as he buttoned the shirt and started tucking it into his trousers. "Nothing to worry about."

LeBeau shook his head, staring at the floor, arms tightly crossed in front of his chest. "_Non_, it's not . . . I mean," he paused, took a deep breath as though gathering his nerve, then plowed on. "I keep thinking about how we – no, _I_ – deserted you yesterday afternoon. _Colonel_, I am sorry. . . . I saw the Gestapo uniform and . . . just panicked . . . grabbed Newkirk and left you behind, got outside to the truck where _we_ might be safe . . . ."

"No," Hogan corrected him sharply. "That is _not_ what happened. You followed my standing orders. You kept your head and stayed in character, just as I was counting on you to; you corroborated my story, then got yourself, Newkirk, and Schultz out of any potential line of fire in case things went wrong, and gave me the space I needed to operate and maintain our cover." His voice softened and he put his hand lightly on LeBeau's shoulder. "It's all about sticking to the storyline in that kind of situation. It worked perfectly, LeBeau. I couldn't have asked for better from you."

LeBeau glanced up at him uncertainly, clearly still unsure; Hogan met his eyes firmly, nodding for emphasis. LeBeau's lips quirked up slightly, and Hogan's own mouth tugged to the right in a half grin.

Hogan dropped his hand to buckle his belt, and then reached for his leather flight jacket. "I'm looking forward to seeing the wedding gown that Yvette of Paris has created," he teased as he pulled it on, deliberately shifting the subject.

"If Newkirk will hurry up and finish the sewing, we'll have a fitting this afternoon. Oh, we'll need to use your office as the dressing room, if you don't mind," LeBeau replied, cheerful once more.

Hogan had been reaching for the office door, but stopped to stare at him in consternation. "Are you crazy? You can't have General Burkhalter's niece in the prisoners' barracks for a fitting! Burkhalter will never allow it!"

LeBeau's eyes twinkled. "_Non, Colonel_, not her – we're using Schultz as our model. After all, their dimensions are about the same, though he is taller. And with the veil on, who is to know the difference? Once we see how the gown works here on Schultz and do a few alterations, we can take it into town for a final fitting on the bride herself. . . ."

He trailed off. Colonel Hogan's eyes had slid away from him and gone distant in a way all of his men immediately recognized. A plan was afoot.

"About the same size, huh?" Hogan muttered. "And the veil hides her face. . . ." The colonel broke into a smile as he came back from wherever he'd been. "LeBeau, you're a genius!"

"_Oui_, _bien sûr_," LeBeau answered with a shrug. "But if you please, exactly how am I a genius _this_ time?"

"Because you've solved the problem of getting the agent out of the Gestapo's clutches and the hotel."

"I have?"

"Yep." Hogan put his arm around the Frenchman's shoulders and steered him out of the office into the common room, giving him a gentle shove towards the door for roll call.

As he moved forward past the stove, LeBeau thought he heard his CO murmur softly under his breath behind him, "You can hide a lot under a veil."

ooOoo

_Oui_, _bien sûr_: Yes, of course. [As best I can remember, from French classes 25+ years ago…]


End file.
